


Silence

by twodwarves_oneeagle



Series: Silence [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, hearing loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twodwarves_oneeagle/pseuds/twodwarves_oneeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili must learn to deal with the loss of his hearing after being struck in the head with the blunt side of an Orc axe. Kili learns of his brother's disability and tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hobbit Kink Meme prompt: Somehow along the way (via battle, large sound, hit to the head, etc) Fili loses his hearing, and tells no one. He doesn’t want to be a burden, or be pushed from the company—he’s the heir after Thorin, he has to make a name for himself, he has to continue on, as it is his burden.
> 
> Of course Kili finds out, and tries to help him out with it.

It started as faint ringing in his ears, a quiet constant that hummed in the back of conversations or sang along side the birds and swaying of the trees. It was twinned with the throbbing of his head that had come from being struck with the blunt side of an Orc axe. Fili knew the pain would fade, and had assumed the same of the ringing.

Instead, it grew into a hungry knell; it swallowed the sounds of crickets and wind over grasslands, it drank the wicker cracking under his feet, it devoured the back and forth conversation of the dwarves. 

Fili noticed it most around the campfire; when he was headfirst involved with the group, it didn’t feel like anything was missing. He could see and feel the crackle of the fire, he could smell their dinner roasting. In the middle of their company, he could see their lips working, but the sound was off. He could hear no crackle of the flame, hear no creak of the turning spittle and he could only hear half the words leaving anyone’s lips. 

He didn’t hear as much as he wanted, but Fili could hear just enough to manage and so, he kept his own fear quelled and buried underneath Durin pride and duty. 

There were a few times when he could see Thorin yell from the front of the company, and he heard nothing. Those moments were the worst; Thorin’s lips would move and the company would scatter to their tasks and Fili could only look to his brother for guidance. Mirroring his brother’s movements and pretending that everything was fine. 

As the days crawled by the knell turn into a roar of nothing; he could hear nothing of Balin’s advice, nothing of Gandalf’s wisdom, nothing of Bilbo’s quaint stories of the Shire. 

The loudest thing in his life are the concerned looks that Kili is constantly throwing his way. If Fili misses a beat when he is supposed to laugh, Kili is there at his side. If he takes too long to nod or mutter what he is assumes is the right answer, Kili is there. If he is chosen to scout or keep watch, Kili is there. If one of the other companions is roaring a warning, Kili is there grabbing and pulling at Fili desperately until he is up and ready with sword in hand and he doesn’t dare stray from his side. 

 _He knows_ , is all Fili can think. 

He spends the next day tense, constantly throwing his own worrying looks to Thorin, especially when he leans conspiratorially over to Dwalin to share a private word of consultation. His heart all but freezes when he sees Kili bantering back and forth with their uncle. There’s a fear thrumming in his chest that at any moment Thorin will turn around and that will be the end of his journey.  

They can’t turn him away. Fili knows his place is there. Fili knows that the only place he belongs in the world is beside his uncle and his brother in battle. He is an heir of Durin and he belongs with every inch, every  _fibre_  of his being in the thick of this conquest. 

There’s a stab of worry with every breath that someone will think of him as a burden if anyone finds out.

No one ever turns around, no one ever tells him he can’t come along.

Fili is woken sharply one night, there are fingers digging into his small clothes and yanking at the neck of his tunic. Kili is above him with eyes wide and frantic, his mouth is moving but it makes no sound. There is no sound anywhere. It’s like the world is moving on, and he’s been left out. He’s not in Middle Earth; he is somewhere else, somewhere just watching. Disconnected. 

Kili is pulling him up, though. Kili is his link to Middle Earth, his anchor, the thing that helps him. Kili is pushing his blades at him with one hand, the other one pressing Fili’s fingers around the hilt. Satisfied his brother was armed his hand starts moving, the fingers making pointed gestures. 

The symbols of Kili’s hands resonate in Fili’s mind, words forming clear as day.  _Danger_ , Kili says without speaking,  _Wargs._

He nods in understanding and watches for Kili’s lead. With Kili felling the orcs from afar, Fili is sure to stay by his brother’s side and back. He doesn’t have to hear them coming, this is all instinct and trust. 

They work in tandem; an orc shot down, then a knock to Fili’s shoulder and he turns and slashes, catching the foul creature in the chest. Another rider felled with an arrow, a nudge to his other shoulder and Fili rounds that way ready to strike. 

He and his brother dance like this, Kili leading and Fili following until the tips of their furs are black with drying blood and their chests pound with heavy breaths. 

It is Dwalin and his war hammer that fell the final warg, solemn nods are passed between all of them. Fili watches where all the dwarves watch: Thorin. As his mouth moves, Kili’s hand is flicking rapidly at his side, trying to remain discreet,  _We are moving camp._

Fili nods and grips his brother’s wrist, his thumb sliding over the pulse tenderly. The have an unspoken understanding that this is theirs alone to shoulder and share. When the other’s pack up and begin to move camp, Fili brings his brother’s palm up to his lips and kisses it gently.

There is no sign in Iglishmêk for thank you, but Kili understands just fine. 

 


End file.
